


Dawn Patrol

by Hippediva



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Non-participatory underage, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-07-26
Updated: 2002-07-26
Packaged: 2017-10-08 05:30:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/73188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hippediva/pseuds/Hippediva





	Dawn Patrol

Obi-Wan Kenobi blinked against the unaccustomed darkness and yawned. He snuggled back down into the covers against the chill and tried to assess what seemed so wrong to him.

No warning tendrils of the Force reached into his sleepy brain; no sounds reached his ears except the whirring of cicadas. The air felt soft and cool and he yawned again and rolled, smiling into his pillow. He was just on the sweet edge of sleep when a cry split the dark and he sat bolt upright, quivering. Again it sounded, a harsh mournful shriek, like the anguished longing of a lost soul. His breath came in short gasps through a mouth hanging open, dry with terror. The agonised screech echoed again and he relaxed. Only a bird, one of the many that inhabited the lakeside retreat. He'd seen such a diversity of species he couldn't recall which it might be, but listened again with a shiver at the pained fluting. His Master would know. He made a mental note to ask, sure that his Master would recall the bird's cry and expect his diligent apprentice to inquire about the indigenous life forms.

The last dream fragment effectively shaken from his cropped head, he lay back down staring at the rough hewn beams of the roof, dark stripes against a dim ceiling. His Master expected so much. It wasn't easy to be Padawan to Qui-Gon Jinn, and Obi-Wan found himself using every bit of his stubborn determination to become a stellar apprentice. In the two years since Melida-Daan, when his sense of self-confidence had been shaken to its very core, he had made every effort to gain in strength and wisdom, learning to take his Master's sometimes silent direction with uncomplaining diligence. He not only accepted Qui-Gon's high standards for his progress, but set his own higher and worked tirelessly at any given task or discipline. It took nearly all his attention and time and he knew that this retreat would hold new lessons, both mental and physical.

Obi-Wan sighed into the night. The physical tasks he never minded: he had grown nearly four inches in the past two years and was stronger and more agile than ever. Last quarter, when he won the Junior Level sabre sparring singles tournament, he was thrilled to see his Master's undisguised pride in him. Qui-Gon was so reserved, so chary of praise. He would telegraph his disappointment or approval with the tiniest of gestures, much to Obi-Wan's despair. About a year ago, the young boy had been agonising over his poor performance in a particularly hated subject and his Master had actually spoken to him about it. Two sentences, but they remained in Obi-Wan's mind like beacons: 'Never worry about how I feel about your accomplishments, Padawan. You must concentrate on fulfilling your obligation to yourself.' From that moment, Obi-Wan decided that his obligation to himself and his Master's approval were one and the same. It never made his tasks less difficult, but often laced his struggles with a deep sense of joy. Seeing a small smile, a crinkling of those blue eyes, a satisfied nod: these things were his jewels and he hoarded them in his heart.

So he lay there quietly contemplating the dark, turning over his little stash of memories and listening to the growing sounds from the wooded lakeside. Another huge yawn split his face and he rolled onto his side, his lashes drooping closed. He blinked for a bit in the blackness, reaching out for his Master's sleeping presence for just a moment.

He sat up again, thoroughly awake and a little disturbed. His Master was not in the bed against the other wall. He was not in the lodge at all.

Obi-Wan threw the covers back and grabbed his robe, pulling it over his shivering shoulders.

Padding to the wooden door, he opened it silently and took a few steps into the strange world that lives in the dim light just before dawn. The trees were black splashes against the midnight sky, an occasional star winking at him through the rustling leaves. It was chilly and the woodland murmured its just waking life as he traced the path down to the lake.

The moon was just setting in the western sky, leaving faint silvery streaks across the dark waters. Qui-Gon was standing near the outcropping of water-smoothed rocks that jutted into the lake, his hair and robes ruffled by the breeze.

Obi-Wan shored up his shields and crept to the shelter of a large tree trunk. Clearly, his Master must be meditating to remain so perfectly still, so completely enveloped in the quietude. The night sky was blossoming to grape colour behind the lodge and the rooftop became brownish as the light slowly crept through the spectrum.

From his huddled covert, Obi-Wan could now see a thin wash of colour over Qui-Gon's face, a sprinkling of starlight reflected in the silver of his beard, his hair. Slowly, he began to move, taking a few steps towards to water's edge. He leaned down, picked up a pebble and skimmed it neatly across the shimmering surface. The air was sweeter now and brighter with every passing moment. Obi-Wan could just follow the little stone's trajectory in pale jumps of froth. He smiled to see his serene and remote Master do something so out of character.

He nearly fell over in a bush when Qui-Gon abruptly slipped the robe off his shoulders.

His Master was completely naked.

Utterly, and gloriously naked. He threw his head back, his unbound hair playing against the pale expanse of his shoulders. The sky above him was almost the same colour as his eyes and Obi-Wan wrapped his arms around himself, shivering, although the last thing he felt was cold.

He was burning up from the inside, a strange, pulsing heat flooding him from toes to the tips of his ears. His eyes were wide as a startled rabbit's, whites reflecting the dying moonlight.

He hardly dared to blink as Qui-Gon stretched hugely, then stepped into the water and dove forward with the slightest splash, only to resurface in a wave of foam. For a moment, his arched body was silhouetted against the water, the sight imprinted on the crouching apprentice's mind in negative, an indelible image in the landscape of memory.

Qui-Gon dove again, swimming strongly with barely a ripple stirring the placid surface.

Back on shore, Obi-Wan could feel his Master's enjoyment of the rushing cool of the water, the stretching pull of muscle and sinew as he swam. He shrank back against his tree, mesmerised by the rhythm of Qui-Gon's strokes. His crouch was beginning to feel strained and uncomfortable but he didn't dare to move. He could only quiver, his every sense straining and sensitised: the rough bark against his cheek, the tickle of the long grass against his tensed thighs, the movement of his eye as he followed the tall figure in the water.

Qui-Gon stood up, now plainly visible in the curious white light of the dawn, and walked to the shore, water dripping off his muscled body in a gleaming shower of silver.

Obi-Wan held his breath, but Qui-Gon did not go to retrieve his robe. He climbed up onto the smooth rock and settled back on his elbows, watching the growing light cast the lake and it's surroundings into otherworldly shadows.

Obi-Wan could not see his face but somehow he could sense his Master's smile.

The Padawan breathed a sigh. His Master was beautiful, bathed in the milkpale light as calm and unruffled as as the great stone he lay upon.

Obi-Wan shuddered and bit his lip. He was deeply confused by the heat that kept firing his blood. His Master was immersed in the Living Force, so close it nearly breathed through his skin, reflecting off the water that shivered down his hair. This was true communion with the Force, the very soul of meditation.

Then why did it make him feel like jumping out of his skin?

He shifted silently, breathed in shakily and prepared to go back to the lodge and leave his Master to his meditation, a little ashamed of spying.

Qui-Gon stretched out full-length, lying on his back, one leg crooked. His chest rose and fell slowly, deep breaths of the warming air.

Then, one hand strayed down to the shadowy space between his legs, and began to slowly move.

Obi-Wan stifled a squeal of surprise, his face flushing deep crimson and he sat backwards into the grass with a little gasp, one hand clapped over his mouth.

Deliberately, Qui-Gon's right arm moved in slow strokes, his other hand drifting across chest, over darkened nipples, down to join the other, reaching beneath the jutting cock out of Obi-Wan's shocked sightline. The light grew stronger, clearly defining the sinewy shoulders' movements, the tensing muscles of his abdomen as his breathing quickened. His head tossed from side to side, eyes closed as one hand explored and the other pumped, his legs straightening out as he began to pant.

Obi-Wan could not take his eyes from the white fist moving fast now, up and down the long length of his Master's organ. His entire world had telescoped into that straining erection, his breathing fast and erratic as the big man's back arched upwards, his fingers flexing around the turgid flesh and his mouth dropped open, his entire body stiffening.

For Obi-Wan, the spurt of semen jutting up from his Master's narrow hips to land on the taut belly seemed to move in slow motion. His breath slowed as he watched Qui-Gon's heaving chest slow, the relaxing fingers playing idly with his softening cock.

Obi-Wan strained his senses, ashamed and afraid, but all he could feel from his Master was that deep connection to the Force along with welling contentment. The apprentice's confusion was complete. He struggled to his feet, his face burning, and crept silently back to the lodge to slip around the back and, miserably, hurriedly caressed himself to completion. He came with a sob. He stole back into his bed and buried his head under the pillow. He woke to a slight shake.

"Padawan. Obi-Wan, wake up. Padawan?"

He started.

Qui-Gon looked down at him with mild exasperation. "You've been asleep for hours. It's quite late, Padawan. Are you well?"

He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again, memories surging into his face along with most of his bloodstream. He ducked his head into the covers and mumbled something inarticulate about a bad dream.

"Well, get up now. I've made you breakfast and it's on the table."

Obi-Wan dragged himself into his clothes and choked down a few bites of breakfast. He could feel the hot colour in his cheeks and struggled through the normal morning meditation with little success.

"Padawan, " Qui-Gon said gently. "Perhaps we should try the Kata of Serenity. It's not too advanced and might serve to help you focus. "

"Yes, Master. I'm sorry Master." The apprentice trudged after his Master, trying to keep his head down.

"Obi-Wan, I do not relish looking at the top of your head. There are no new bumps that I can see."

"Yes Master." He could look anywhere but into Qui-Gon's eyes.

The Master did not appear to notice, but shed his outer tunic and his boots in the soft grass to assume the first position of the kata.

The apprentice did the same and they began the mirror moves of the kata. All was well: the kata was a basic, known to any ten-year Initiate. Obi-Wan's movement were a trifle strained but he did a good job of hiding his anxious inattention until the faster movements of arms and legs. There was only one aerial in this kata. In the middle of it, Obi-Wan had a clear, frighteningly vivid memory of the dawn movement of Qui-Gon's hands, triggered by a single bead of sweat that trickled down from the silvered temple onto his Master's neck. He fell heavily in an ungraceful heap.

Qui-Gon simply held out a hand to him.

"I think that's enough of that for today. You know, Obi-Wan, there is more to becoming part of the Force than drills and lessons."

Now, the Padawan was crimson with shame, and had a large bruise rising on his bum.

Silently, Qui-Gon collected their outer tunics and boots and led the way back to the lodge, the discouraged apprentice trailing after him.

At the doorway, the Master paused. "You know, a nice swim and a quiet bit of pleasure can do wonders for wandering attention spans."

Obi-Wan's head shot up, his eyes wide.

Qui-Gon bent forward to enter the low door, then turned without a shadow of a smile, but a devilish twinkle in his blue eyes. "You should trust me, young Padawan. A lesson can be learned, even crouched in a bush at dawn."

FIN


End file.
